Piano Hands
by RedRoses130
Summary: Madge copes with the Games and District 2's Career tribute, Cato.


**Hey guys! So this will just be a one shot. If you like how I write CatoxMadge, tell me so that I can do a multi chapter! Give me any other Madge pairing, and I will see if I can write 'em. **

**Thanks, **

** RedRoses130 **

**P.s. – for some reason I had a ThorxMadge dream last night. Probably because the actor who plays Thor is the brother of the actor who plays Gale. I might pick up a little of those two in another one shot.**

* * *

_ Piano Hands_

Madge was four when her mother sat her deftly on the bench before the piano. The Mayor's Wife wasn't always in her best state of mind, but when she was well enough, she loved teaching her daughter music.

"Your hands," she would say to her, "are made to dance. To create a spark.'

She would often quote famous musicians from a time before Panem while teaching Madge all the scales she knew.

"This piano," she would say, "is a weapon."

Madge wouldn't really understand that until later in life.

"But let it also be your friend. Your best friend; a guardian if you will."

And Madge would take that to heart. She learned to read notes as easily as she could read words, memorized the sound each key gave off. She enjoyed nothing more than writing songs, creating complicated cords of high and low. She lived for music, because music was all she had when her father was too busy and her mother too sick. When kids taunted her, a soothing melody would always do the trick. Faced with any trouble, her piano would act to Madge like a shield would.

But if she had been given the chance, Madge would have gladly traded her music for love.

* * *

The morning of the 74th Reaping, Madge woke with an unsettling queasiness in the pit of her stomach.

"This is the year I'm going to get reaped," Madge cried to her father and gardener.

Her father looked at her over his newspaper, eyes narrowed, while the gardener looked down at his hands.

"Now Margaret," he said sternly, "you know I wouldn't allow for that to happen."

But Madge wasn't relieved. How could she, when the Capital was so good at taking? They took the produce of the deserving districts, the life from the innocent, and the children from their parents.

They took the _music _from people's lives, thought Madge.

When she told her fears to her mother, her poor mother who was forced to attend the Reapings, she caused a riot of sorts. The Mayor's Wife screamed for her husband, begging him for protection.

"They're going to take her away," she hollered, "away from us for good! Just like they took Mayilsee!"

And then they were forced to inject her with morphing – just enough to calm her down. When she had done so considerably, she motioned for Madge to come closer.

She pressed something to her daughter's palm and said, "I hope this will bring you more luck than it has my sister, Madgekins."

Wincing at both the nickname and the coolness of the object, Madge looked and saw a pin. She instantly recognized it as Aunt Maysilee's mockingjay pin. She was just about to ask her mother some questions concerning as to why she had been given this particular object, when there was knocking on the backdoor. Pinning the pin to her Reaping Day dress, Madge opened the door to reveal her Katniss and her hunting companion, Gale.

"Pretty dress," said Gale.

Inwardly Madge cringes at the tone of voice he used.

"I want to look pretty for the Capitol, don't I?" she ends up retorting.

To her own ears, the comeback sounds lame and weak (she had never gotten the hang of verbally sparring), but it sets off Gale to another rant.

When they'd left, Madge apologized to her mother, and waved goodbye to the help before leaving with her father. When she arrived and notified the authorities that she's there she scurried to stand next to her neighbor. Soon after that Katniss arrived, both her and Prim smelling like flowers.

"Good luck, Prim," Madge said carefully.

Prim nodded nervously, hitching up a skirt several sizes too big. For a moment, Madge hated herself for her new, custom made dress she wore. So she hummed to herself under her breath and tapped her knee where she imagined the keys of her piano to be. She continued to do so through the welcoming speeches, throughout the Dark Days clip, and right up to when Effie Trinket called her name.

* * *

Like the etiquette her nanny had taught her as a child requested, Madge walked with a straight back and modest air. She didn't shiver, she didn't cower in fear, and she didn't cry when Effie called up Peeta and her dad was called to read the treaty. Instead, she thought of her piano. Her mother didn't play anymore, and her father had never bothered learning how. Madge was probably one of the only people who knew how to in District 12.

* * *

It wasn't until she was brought to the Justice Building and given some privacy that she allowed herself to show some emotion. She hadn't expected anyone to come visit her except her father, so when Katniss was the first to enter, she had been quite surprised.

"Hello, Madge," she said.

It was a rather awkward greeting, and it was just as awkwardly returned. And so they continued, spending a couple of seconds in silence.

"You should avoid the Blood Bath, Madge. Go find some water for yourself and some food. Make allies. Peeta would be a good start."

Madge nods, dumbfounded. She hadn't been thinking past tonight's dinner, as she had skipped breakfast that day.

"I'll try," said Madge.

When her father came, they spent their three minutes hugging.

When the Peacekeepers came to escort him out, he said, "You used to help the gardener, Madge. Remember what he told you!"

For a second Madge was dumbfounded. Though she had spent most of her time behind her piano, she had also spent some weekends willingly helping the gardener, who was getting hunchbacked with age. She had only learned the basics (this, is a potato, and those are carrots and those are onions. They are edible), but Madge realized even the most meager of knowledge about plants was valuable. Thinking about the garden got her feeling nostalgic, so Madge rapped her fingers to the beat of a tune she hummed.

* * *

On the train Madge and Peeta were lead to a room occupied by a grinning Effie.

"My, my, my," she said. "Certainly a good pair this year."

Peeta shuffled, obviously uncomfortable, but Madge held her place and smiled. She was used to this treatment because of all the Capitol people she was forced to host back home.

They were then lead to separate compartments, all furnished with a bed and several chairs. Feeling mischievous, Madge jumped on the bed and bounced a few times before falling and making a bed-sheet angel **[1]. **She hadn't noticed how tired she was before, but the bed was so deliciously soft and the pillows were actually stuffed with feathers. At home, they were just filled with some type of wool.

The next day Haymitch attended breakfast. Even though he was drunk out of his wits, both Madge and Peeta silently agreed that this was an overall improvement. When they had finally had enough of his ravings, Peeta startled him by swiping his chair out from under him.

"Listen, sir," said Madge, "we appreciate the fact that you've gone through a lot and obviously need alcohol to fill a void within yourself, but we've become concerned that your unhealthy habits will affect our performance in the Games."

There was a moment of silence as both Effie and Haymitch digested the bold moves of the tributes. Haymitch began laughing as soon as he had processed what happened.

"Just like Mayilsee," he burled, becoming serious quickly.

"I'm wearing her pin, you know," she said.

Haymitch nods like a little lamb following the instructions of its mother.

"She wouldn't have wanted you to abandon Peeta and me," she said as convincingly as possible.

"I have nothing to do with Mayilsee; it was twenty-five years ago. Forgotten." He replied.

"But it's not, because you held her in your arms. She died holding your hand, Haymitch. Because you couldn't save her, she's dead."

Haymitch slung his head and told Madge to stop, and it sounded like a mantra. But Madge didn't stop. She wanted to go home, to play a sonata for her mother and father, bask in their pride. She couldn't feel guilty, not now.

"You owe it to us, to act like our mentor. You owe it to my mother. Do you–" and that's as far as she got before Peeta told her to stop.

Most importantly, Haymitch agreed to start acting like a mentor.

* * *

When Madge entered the dining cart of the train the next morning, she was immediately bombarded with information and questions.

"So, Sunshine," said Haymitch, "what's your angle gonna be?"

Through Haymitch's many flaws, Madge decided to let his little nickname of her slide.

"I thought that that was your job, sir," she retorted.

Peeta frowned, but Haymitch guffawed. Effie beamed and boasted about how sharp this year's pair was. She wasn't shy about telling them how 'mute' the other tributes were, though Madge found it perfectly understandable. Throughout their conversation, Madge had found out that Peeta was going for the 'determined-yet-cute' type. His natural charms more than made that clear.

"You're the one giving us trouble, Sunshine," said Haymitch.

For some reason, this made Madge feel a bit guilty. Here sat Haymitch in all his glory, trying his best. When he proposed the 'sexy' angle, Madge wouldn't stop blushing, so they decided on the 'smart-and-innocent-but-slightly-geeky-in-an-adorable-way' type.

"Ah," said Effie, "Yes, that angle is quite popular with the crowd, but I daresay no other district has tributes quite like ours!"

And they all agreed. For the rest they established the standard Hunger Games procedures; they'd be training together, and they'd be allies in the arena.

"Should we make our own little pack?" Asked Madge.

Haymitch replied that it would be stupid, because then they'd have even more people to kill, and even more attachments. Peeta and Madge both asked what _even more attachments _meant.

Haymitch said, "You've already got each other, and Sunshine here looks like the romantic type. I guarantee you."

Madge mumbled something under her breath and Peeta snickered at her discomfort. He knew the Mayor's daughter had never said yes to any boy who asked her out on a date, granted that there were only a handful.

And Madge said, "I'm only sixteen, thankyouverrymuch!"

So they left to watch the other Reapings. The first four districts produced monsters, except for District 3.

"You can't deny that District 2 isn't handsome," said Effie.

Madge found herself agreeing. Though he was undeniably handsome, District 2's male tribute was huge. Not in the, _I'm on crack, _huge, but the toned type of huge that made girls swoon. He was tan enough, though not like District 4, with blond, slightly curly, hair. He was of average height – though, let's face it, he'd probably tower over Madge – but that wasn't what scared her. It was something in those blue eyes, something in his blinding smile; he was cold, unloving. She wondered if he'd be the one to kill her and, if he did, feel remorse over his actions. His confident stance already answered the question.

Madge said, "We've got to watch out for that one, Peeta. He'll snap us like a dry twig."

It was easy to say, Madge didn't pay attention for the rest of the Reapings except for the last two. In District 11 a little girl was called, and Madge crooned with pity. The girl's male counterpart, however, had both of District 12's tributes shaking.

When their viewing came on, Madge saw that she fit her angle perfectly. Though she had felt strong and tall and confident at the time, she was, in reality, an awkward but pretty picture of innocence, trying to act brave. Peeta behaved perfectly, too, showing his emotions openly instead of trying to hide them.

But still – they had some work to do. And as the train came into view of the Capitol, this became all too more apparent to Madge.

* * *

They were immediately whisked off to their stylists. Even though her Prep Team consisted of three strange looking people with equally strange names (who would name their child Flavius, Vienna, or Octavia, of all the names?), Madge saw that they were all quite docile and meant well. Kind of like how she imagined cows to act, thought Madge.

"Ooohhh, look at her pretty face! Like a porcelain doll," said Vienna.

And it was true, to some degree. Though most in District 12 were tan, Madge had inherited her mother's pale countenance. Like all people from the Town, she had long, blond slightly curly hair with large blue eyes to complement it. Her face was angular, and she looked rather fragile. Her housekeeper said it was because she had to do no work. She hadn't meant it in a mean way, just factual.

"The perfect Greek beauty," said Flavius, "just what Cinna had imagined."

"Or at least, she _will _be the perfect Greek beauty once we're done with her," said Octavia, smiling good naturedly.

And it was true. After Madge had been stripped of all her clothing, plucked bare of any offending hair and bathed, she looked like the picture of health and beauty. But when she was left nude to meet her stylist, she became nervous. Madge had always been wary of nudity, and was even more so now that she remembered how, one year, her district had been sent out nude in the chariots.

Then she met Cinna. He told her to put on a robe, which she did gladly. He looked almost normal, Madge noticed. How strange Capitol folk, she thought.

"Did you know that District 2 is doing gladiator style again?" he asked her.

Madge frowned and shook her head, although it seemed obvious. They did it every year, after all.

"Do you want some food? Something to drink, maybe," he offered.

When Madge declined it, he asked her if he found the Capitol despicable for their easy lives.

"I've wouldn't be able to say, sir; I myself have barely lifted a finger other than to play the piano," replied Madge.

Cinna muttered something about a Greek muse. They sat in a comfortable silence for a while, Cinna looking at her in concentration.

"How do you feel about fire," he asked.

Madge didn't know how to answer, and decided to settle for a smile instead.

* * *

Madge wanted to hug Cinna. Because neither she nor Peeta had ever known hunger, they decided that the average costumes were too simple. To clash with District 2's Roman themed gladiator armor, Cinna and Portia (Peeta's stylist) had decided to dress them in Greek noble garments. Both Peeta and Madge, adorned with crowns of burning laurel leaves, wore white chitons, that of Madge floor length and Peeta's reaching just above the knees. The twist being that, not only were their crowns on fire, but so were their chariots and so was the bottom half of Madge's dress. Madge was slightly disappointed, though; all the synthetic fire would take the attention away from her, and she for the first time she felt special and beautiful.

Flavius had done her hair in little ringlets and then gathered it up in an old fashioned bun, like the ones her grandmother wore in the pictures. She wore no makeup except for a bit of immaculately placed blush to accent her features.

The strangest thing, however, was Cinna's and Haymitch's instructions.

"Madge," said Cinna, "I'm going to need you to hold Peeta's hand for the procession. Don't let go, okay? Act like you're the best of friends."

Madge nodded nervously. Before she could ask for luck, she was lighted afire and moving. Thankfully the horses were calm with their movements and she had no trouble using both hands for something other than holding on to the railing. After a moment she began to _enjoy _the attention. She blew kisses to the crowd and waved, laughing as people called out her name. If only she wouldn't have to go in the arena the next week, everything would have been perfect.

* * *

Exhausted and annoyed, Madge threw a training spear to the ground. She was getting desperate; she knew enough about the plants area and her nimble playing hands had navigated the ropes easily enough for her to feel a shoot of confidence, but she could not hit a dummy fie meters away from her with a spear. Or any other weapon, for that matter.

"Getting desperate, are we?"

Madge turned around, ready to accuse Peeta for snooping when she came face to face with the male tribute from District 2. Madge considered practicing her running skills, but, she reasoned, that would seem cowardly.

So she looked him straight in the eyes, and said, "Can I help you with something? Or do you always stalk you competitors?"

He laughs, and when he was reminded of the Games Madge noticed that the feral glint returned to his eyes.

"Miss Undersee," says the trainer impatiently, "You can do this. Back straight like this."

Madge returned her attention to the man teaching her and attempted to imitate his stance. He groaned and shook his head and was about to suggest she go somewhere else when Cato, in a fit of rare pity, decided to take her depressing showcase of lack of talent and corrected her wrongs.

He put a hand on her hip and said, "He said straight, District 12. Like this, see?"

And he gently corrected her stance. The trainer, however, had called quits and was now helping intrigued Rue.

"And now you lean on your back foot. Good, like that," he said.

Madge, engrossed in trying to hold the spear correctly, didn't notice Cato getting closer and closer to her until he was close enough to whisper.

"And throw," he whispered.

And Madge did. To her childish delight, it went straight through the forehead. She was aiming for the heart, but she wasn't really complaining, now was she? In a fit of excitement she laced her arms around Cato's neck.

"I did it, see? I did it! I hit it!" she gushed into his shoulder.

She inhaled the unfamiliar scent of expensive cinnamon and a hint of sweat. She allowed herself to think of _how nice he smelled _before she realized that this was District 2 who she was hugging. She stumbled backwards, into Rue, in shock. After apologizing profusely to the latter, she turned to Cato with a guarded expression.

"Thank you," she said carefully.

Cato said, "Anytime, Twelve. In fact, if you continue like this, I might actually have to start paying attention to you."

And he left Madge trembling, with a concerned Rue asking if she was okay.

* * *

The night before the training scores were to be decided, Madge made a request to Haymitch.

"You want to ask that little girl to be your ally?" he asked, voice sounding dangerously calm.

Both Madge and Peeta nodded. They told him that, either with or without his, they would invite her.

"But it'd be nice if you backed us," said Peeta.

Haymitch slumped and looked around the room. Effie was looking at her nails, and Madge was giving him her best puppy dog stare.

"It depends," he said slowly, "on what your training score is. And what hers is, for that matter."

Madge and Peeta did a little amusing victory juggle.

"Now," said Effie brightly, "How are we going to come across in our interviews, again?"

"As the very best of friends," said Peeta and Madge in unison.

Haymitch rolled his eyes but made no comment.

* * *

Waiting for her turn with the Game Makers, Madge started tapping her fingers across the knees again, humming a lullaby her gardener used to sing. She wasn't really sure if it was a lullaby, but when she asked him where he got the words from, he answered with a prompt 'passing down of the generation'. It was so soothing, Madge had always dreamed to sing it to her own children, and maybe even create a piano piece to accompany it. Peeta looked at her strangely, and so did the District 11 boy, but as they were the last ones to go, she didn't really care.

"Nervous, I take it?"

It was Cato who spoke, and, upon remembering their earlier encounter, Madge inched closer to Peeta.

"Why would you think that?" Madge asked innocently.

"No reason," he said, "But you should be; they wouldn't pay attention to you if you threw a spear at them. You're second last. Won't get higher than a five, if you ask me."

Madge shrugged, and asked, "What are you going to do about it?"

Cato grinned madly and said, "I could protect you for a small fee."

Madge stared uncomprehendingly at him, until it dawned. With a cry of disgust she covered her face with her hand.

"Never! You're a monster, through and through, District 2!"

With a sleazy smile he told her to call him 'Cato' before sauntering off. Madge stayed alarmed until it was her turn, even though both Peeta and Thresh offered her small smiles (at least, she thought Thresh was smiling at her. Or he could've just been glaring at her. She quite preferred the first, thanks).

* * *

Standing before the Game Makers, Madge was at loss. She walked over to the plants area and sorted them into edible and nonedible. She did that fairly quickly though, so she went to the ropes and knotted some nooses. But she did that quickly too, so desperate for something to impress them, she remembered something that Cato had told her.

"_They wouldn't pay attention to you if you threw a spear at them." _

Anger overtook her and she thought, 'yeah? We'll see about that'. So she grabbed a spear and, remembering how Cato had corrected her stance, threw it with all her might. It managed to imbed itself in the wall, and one of the Game Makers fell in the punch bowl. Trying not to giggle, Madge ran out of the room as fast as she could, even though she hadn't been dismissed.

* * *

She did it. She had gotten a nine. That meant she got the same score as half the Careers! Only Cato and Clove had gotten higher scores than her. Peeta did okay, too; he got a seven. Even Haymitch admitted they did a good job.

"You can ask your little friend to be allies now," he said.

Madge cheered and Peeta grinned. Then they were taken to get ready for the interviews. Cinna helped her dress into a free-flowing yellow dress, held together by a golden rope around the middle. Madge didn't know what type of material it was, but it shimmered and she knew it would resemble fire.

"Wow," she said, "It looks like I'm burning."

Cinna smiled, as if he knew the feeling.

"Cinna," Madge began, "are you my friend?"

Madge didn't have many friends. In District 12, Katniss had been her only friend. Even now, Peeta wasn't really her _friend_, but an ally.

After a moment of hesitation, Cinna said, "I like to think so, Madge. I do consider you my friend."

Madge smiled a broad, angelical smile. She made the embers seem to grow warmer. _It really is a matter of personality_, thinks Cinna. He finds himself smiling back.

"Go out there and make us proud, Madge," chimed in Flavius.

Madge winked and grinned broadly, blowing them a kiss before walking to her chair.

* * *

Madge finds herself enraptured in Cato's interview. He, for a psychopath, is a truly fascinating being, she decides.

"So, Cato," said Caesar Flickerman, "Word has it your quite the charmer!"

Cato laughed and replied, "I don't know about that, but I've had my share of kisses, true."

The crowd laughed. An audience member in the crowd yelled out if there's another tribute he wouldn't mind 'sharing kisses' with. Caesar Flickerman nodded in encouragement, and Cato pretended to mull it over.

"Well, there _is _one that's caught my eye," Cato said, "but no one can tell me her name!"

The crowd laughed again and chanted, 'who? Who? Who?' over and over like a mantra. Now all the other tributes were interested, too; even Thresh raised an eyebrow.

"District 12, is quite a looker, I must say," Cato laughed again, looking at Madge over his shoulder.

Madge felt herself go red, and she wished that she had denied the offer for blush. She squirmed in her seat, horrified at what the District 2 male tribute had revealed. From her seat, the girl named Glimmer (it was such a ridiculous name Madge had no trouble remembering it) glared at her. The audience cooed at the idea of lovers doomed in their conquest for survival. Madge did not pay attention for the rest of his interview, and instead sat rigidly in her chair, hands in front of her as if she were in school.

When it was her turn, Madge made her way to the stage lacking the confidence the Careers had. But Caesar Flickerman made it all so much easier, making her twirl to show off her dress.

"Yes, didn't my stylist and prep team just do a marvelous job? It's like I'm on fire," giggled Madge, pointing to where her team sat.

Caesar Flickerman whistled appreciatively.

"It seems Cato was right, Margaret, you are quite the lovely bird!"

Madge laughs a tinkling laugh and said, "Oh, please; call me Madge. It seems there is more than one charmer here tonight, sir!"

The crowd laughed at her joke. Madge bites her lip nervously as a sign that he should keep asking the questions. His hair is throwing her off a bit, but a little part of her thinks it's fun.

"So, Madge," said Flickerman, "What do you do in your free time?"

"I play the piano," said Madge immediately, "Sometimes I sing, too, but I don't sound even half as good as my friend Katniss. When she sings, it's as if the birds go quiet."

Caesar smiles at Madge. Not a lot of tributes talk of others during their interviews, wanting to get as many sponsors as they can get.

"And you and Peeta were holding hands, huh? Tell me, does Cato have any competition there?" jokes Caesar.

Madge laughs self-consciously and looked behind her to gauge Peeta's reaction. Instead, her eyes immediately landed on Cato, who was sitting a bit tenser than before.

"Nope," she said, popping the _p_, "Not really; Peeta and I have been friends since forever. Met each other while we were still in diapers, see? I would risk my life for him, if given the chance."

She smiled and the crowd cooed at how unselfish she undoubtedly was. _If only they knew_, she thought. When her minutes were over, she sat back in her seat, smiled to Rue, and avoided the higher districts. Peeta's interview passed without incident.

* * *

"So you've got your self an admirer, huh Madge?" asked Effie brightly.

"I wouldn't get too excited, Effie," said Peeta, "It's probably just a tactic."

Madge silently agreed, but Effie wouldn't hear of it.

"Tsk, Tsk, Peeta," she said, "No need to be jealous! I've heard how attractive she thinks he is!"

Madge colored a bit, _not _wanting to talk about the interviews. Instead she asked about Rue. Haymitch had said that they had sent an invitation to her, and that she had accepted.

"Now all we need is to discuss tactics with her," said Madge."

And so they did. They met up on the roof, where they decided that one of them would get two or three packs while the rest move into the forest. The one with the packs would consequently run after them.

"As I am the fastest," said Madge, "I think I should do it. I can, you know. I'll get us our packs."

After a lot of convincing on Madge's part, Peeta and Rue agreed. They told her that she needed to stay as far away from Cato and Clove as possible, because they were the biggest predators. And with that, their meeting was adjourned and they went to get a good night's sleep before entering the arena.

* * *

Madge entered the arena, wearing her hair up in a high ponytail and her mocking jay pin proudly on her chest. As was decided, she looked for a moment to where Peeta and Rue had run before dashing off in the midst of the blood bath. She tried not to scream as Clove knifed the crippled kid from District 7, instead getting four packs. District 7 was dead anyway; he wouldn't notice it gone. And then she made a beeline for the area of the woods her allies went to. When she made it far enough into the woods to be certain she had a chance of survival, she started calling for Rue and Peeta. She was pleasantly surprised when they beckoned to her from a tree.

She joked, "You can climb trees, Peeta? My, you sure are a wunderkind, huh!"

Rue helped her navigate the branches, taking the packs so it'd be easier for her to balance. They rejoiced in the fact that she hadn't gotten one, or two, but _four _packs.

"It doesn't mean we can slack off, though. We don't have any weapons – we're a weak link," Madge said.

The other three agreed and they decided that they would go berry and nut hunting the following day. They looked through the packs, which revealed to hold three sleeping bags, three small packets of crackers, two canteens, four packs of iodine, and about three-day's worth of dried meat.

They started scouting soon after. Keeping Madge's keen musicians ears to the task of hearing imperfections in the wild life, they soon found a stream. They filled their flasks up to the brim, adding the right amount of iodine. Then they continued to drink about half of it, just to fill it up again with water ten seconds later.

"We should probably stick close to the river," said Peeta.

Rue nodded eagerly, because here they could catch game and have a source to get water from, and the trees were thicker here, too. But Madge was frowning. Instead of listening to Peeta, she was listening to some sound behind her. She lifted a finger discreetly to her lips and picked up a rock.

"Aren't these trees just the prettiest?' she asked forcefully, "There aren't much trees back in District 12."

She then threw the rock as hard as she could in a northern direction. The custom thud of the rock was accompanied by a hushed cry of alarm and then a scurrying. After a couple of moments, in which Madge made sure there was no one there anymore, she told Rue and Peeta that they'd be following the girl the next day.

"The ground is moist here," she said, "We'll be able to see the tracks she's left behind."

Her face is a cold, emotionless mask as she said it. Though it made Rue slightly uncomfortable, it _scared _Peeta. Because right then, he realized that Madge was the closest District 12 would ever have to a career tribute.

* * *

True to her word, Madge woke the others early. They followed the sneaking tribute's tracks, picking up berries as they went along. Rue had soon banned Peeta from this task, as he couldn't see the difference between the poisonous and the nonpoisonous berries. He had growled in frustration because he should be doing _something_.

"I think that I have the perfect task for you, Peeta," said Madge, "You were always a good painter, right?"

"I suppose. I always iced the cakes back home," he replied.

"Well then," said Madge kindly, "You should camouflage us."

And Peeta did an amazing job at that. He made sure not to make the mud stripes to perfect, but not too messy, either. They would be able to blend in anywhere and have the people not notice them as long as they didn't look too closely.

One day, Madge noticed that the tracks ended suddenly.

"Guys, retreat. I'm going scouting," she said.

There was no way she was going to bring them any kinds of danger, as they _still _had no weapons. They hadn't needed them so far; they had lived off of small rations of dried meat and berries. Madge had even tried to make a type of forest stew, which tasted disgusting but they all ate anyway. Every day she heard cannons go off, and she was grateful that she had done none of the killing. Again, she picked up a large rock. It was becoming a favorite weapon, of sorts. She came upon a small clearing and saw a red-haired tribute do some weird dance to what she saw was a large stash of food. Her mind supplied her images of the Careers, and she involuntarily thought about how brave the girl was. Why she was walking like that, Madge had no clue.

But then she realized – this year the Careers had accepted that scrawny District 3 boy and they were able to do uncanny things with mechanics. She didn't know exactly what he had done, but Madge had a feeling that if she threw something in the area between the food and the girl, something bad would happen. Standing a safe distance away, Madge threw her rock. At first nothing happened, but then the rock rolled over, just an inch or so, but the result was deafening. The last thing Madge saw was the ginger girl being blown up.

* * *

Madge was blasted back by the explosion. She must have blacked out, because when she woke up, there was a severed arm next to her. Stifling a scream, Madge checked to see if she still had both arms, and when she saw that she did, she stood unsteadily. Something was off, she realized. And it wasn't just the body parts lying around. _She couldn't hear out of her left ear_. Madge started to panic; she _needed _both ears to compose. And to survive, she later added.

But she had no time to ponder, because her good ear heard shouting voices, and she heard Cato amongst them.

"Fuck," he shouted, "what the hell happened?"

Madge cringed at how angry his voice sounded and his use of words (if _she _had used those words, she would've been forced to wash her mouth with a bar of soap). She started to crawl off when someone dragged her back.

"Well," said Glimmer, "look what the pretty girl dragged in; a mud beast."

She laughed as if she had just said the best joke on the planet, and Madge remembered that Peeta had camouflaged them. She tried to scramble back when Cato took a closer look, but he grabbed her by the hair and forced her to look at him. He grinned when she whimpered in pain.

"Well, well; it looks like Twelve has managed to stay alive."

Behind Cato, Clove stiffened. She took one of her knives and held it to Madge's neck.

"You were allied with two others. Where are they?"

"I don't know; I was scouting. They could be anywhere now."

Clove pressed the knife to Madge's neck harder and said, "Think harder, Twelve."

Cato lazily pushed Clove aside. He grabbed Madge by the neck and shoved into the direction of the stream.

"Wash your face, Twelve," he said, "All the mud is distracting."

Madge scrubbed her face and her neck dutifully. She was pondering whether to lead the Careers tot the wheat fields or farther east. She wasn't sure, but she knew she needed to get them as far as possible away from Peeta and Rue. After she had scrubbed herself red, Madge looked around her and noticed something.

"Potatoes," she cried out joyfully.

* * *

At the promise of more decent food, Cato and Clove made Madge dig the roots up. She did so skillfully, having seen the gardener do it several times. They then made her cut it up with one of Clove's knives, despite Glimmer's protests that it could _not _be sanitary. If Madge noticed Cato glancing over to her area more than necessary, she did not show it.

While they were eating, Glimmer made a point of hanging on Cato. Clove just rolled her eyes as she did so.

"So, Twelve," said Glimmer, "you said in your interview you could sing?"

Madge winced. The boy from District 3 had his neck snapped hours prior, and the sickening _crack_ was still embedded into her mind like an etching. She was desperately aware that this meant that the three in front of her were the only Careers left.

"Sing something for us, will you? I'm in _desperate _need of amusement,' she said, pressing up against Cato as she did so.

Madge frowned, not knowing what to do. She looked across the camp fire, which they had lit to cook the potatoes. Currently they were each, except for Madge, roasting the potatoes on sticks, and the other Careers looked at her expectantly and smugly, as if they thought she didn't have the guts to do anything.

"My gardener used to sing when a storm was coming and he had to prep the plants," she said.

And then she started singing. Her voice was slightly raspy from the lack of use, but she had a sweet, youthful voice that soothed.

Far over the Misty Mountains cold,

To dungeons deep and caverns old,

The pines were roaring on the heights,

The winds were moaning in the night,

The fire was red, its flaming spread,

The trees like torches blazed with light.

After that all went quiet for a while, until Madge lay down and closed her eyes. She let her breathing even out before she flexed her good ear, willing it to catch any tidbits of news possible.

"Was that it?" asked Glimmer sarcastically.

Cato told her to shut up. Clove said nothing and took a bite of her potato. She groaned in delight as soon as she did so, which extracted a raised eyebrow from Glimmer. It wasn't as if they were anywhere near as delicious as the ones they got from the Capitol.

"You just think she's pretty," whined Clover.

Cato did not respond, but Madge knew he was looking at her. And she was a sight to Cato. She portrayed some kind of innocence that Cato had yet to meet. Maybe it was the fact that she was so weirdly unselfish, or maybe it was just that she _was _pretty, especially with the fire's reflection lighting her face the way it did.

"But, honestly," continued Glimmer, "She's not half as pretty as I am! Look, she is still as pale as a corpse."

Cato pushed her off of him and said, "I find that there's a visible difference between fake and real, actually."

Madge kept her features schooled, but inside she felt a strange kind of fluttering. Cato was probably just annoyed at Glimmer, but no guy had ever complimented her like that before. It felt nice, even coming from Cato.

* * *

The next day, Madge was roughly woken by a pouting Glimmer.

"Can't you hear me, or something," she asked, "I've been calling you for the past five minutes."

Madge rubbed the sleep from her eyes and thought about how she should answer.

"No, I can't. When that girl blew up your food supply my ear got damaged."

Glimmer must have sensed some truth behind that, because she huffed and walked away. Madge felt like doing a little victory dance when her stomach growled loud enough to grab Cato's attention. He grinned and walked over to her. Madge colored a bit, remembering his conversation with Glimmer last night. He offered her a cracker, which she cautiously accepted.

"I didn't poison it," he laughed.

Madge mumbled something under her breath about not thinking that he did, but he ignored that. They sat in silence while she ate, until she finally decided to say something.

"If you win," she said, "What is the first thing you'd do when you got back home?"

Cato didn't hesitate before saying, "Show off my crown to my friends."

Madge pondered this. So competitive, she thought.

"How about you? What _if _you'd win? What would be the first thing you'd do?"

Madge took her time answering, rubbing a blade of grass between her thumb and fore finger as she did so.

"I'd go home," she said, "And I'd kiss my father on the check and my mother on the hands. Then I'd play them a nice, long and calm sonata on the piano."

Cato snorted, and Madge frowned at his amusement.

"Why on the hands," he asked.

Madge crossed her legs beneath her and said, "because she's got piano hands. Just like me, see?"

She holds up her right hand and wriggles her fingers. She beckons to Cato for him to give his hand and she tells him that he's got piano hands, too.

"My mom told me when I was a girl," she said, "that people like us – people with piano hands – were meant for great things. To create cultures and make people happy. That we were the sharpest weapons of them all."

Cato laughed again and called her mother crazy, only to have her close herself up to him.

"Thanks for the crackers," she said before going mute for the rest of the day.

* * *

That night Cato offered Madge food, which she declined. He felt himself get angry, when Clove stopped him from doing anything rash.

"She can lead us to where _they _are," she said, "then we can have our fun with her."

Glimmer sensed the sudden coldness and became smugger. She even went as far as to say that she found Madge rather 'docile', and 'sweet'. If only she realized Madge was leading them astray.

In fact, Madge had decided to take them towards the wheat field. If she remembered correctly, that was where Thresh had hidden this entire time. But she also planned ahead; in no hurry to get the life tortured out of her, Madge planned to lead them far enough from Peeta and Rue before popping in some night lock she had found. Madge remembered when a branch had crept up in her garden once, and how she had almost eaten one before the gardener noticed. She had planned to mince some in with the extra potatoes that the three Careers kept for themselves. She certainly had enough chance; they had begun to see her as no real threat and she could easily sneak some of the poisonous berry into their food while she was preparing it. The only thing that stopped her was Cato. He had been surprisingly soft towards her.

"So," he asked her when she had been guiding them for three days, "do you have many close friends back home?"

Madge mulled it over. Was Katniss a friend? Yes, certainly; but a _close _friend? No, not really.

"No," she said, "They think of me quite the way I think of you."

He raised an eyebrow and said, "They think you're a monster?"

Madge bit her lip in thought and said, "No. I don't think you're a monster. I think you're different than I am. Just like the people from the Seam and Town thought I was different from them. It's all quite foolish, I suppose."

Cato shrugged, walking a bit more quickly to catch up to Clove at the front. That was also the day that they realized something was wrong.

Clove asked, "Wait – why are we going to the direction of the wheat fields?"

Madge stiffened, eyes going large and doe-like. Glimmer went to stand straight in front of her, flexing her hands while a sadistic smile over powered her features. Cato only frowned, realizing their mistake. Madge inwardly cursed. She should've poisoned them long ago, and now it was too late; they were getting that strange gleam in their eyes again.

Right then, when Clove was about to throw a knife, Rue came running from the trees.

"Stop," she cried.

The Careers stopped, all surprised. Then it dawned on all of them that they had been _followed_. Madge felt a foreboding sense of doom. Peeta must've felt it too, because he came out, shouting for Rue to stop before it was too late. But instead _he _had come too late, because Glimmer had already put a spear through Rue.

Madge screamed when blood spatter came on her. She ran to her fallen friend, crying for help. Rue had died instantly.

* * *

After Rue's cannon went off, it was Peeta's turn. But he had turned wild, kicking and screaming. He charged at Glimmer, and, with one sharp motion, snapped her neck. It took only seconds for Cato's sword to run him through. Madge could only go to her fallen friend and hold his hand while he died.

"You monster," Madge sobbed to Cato, "I should've poisoned you when I had the chance!"

Cato sneered and said, "I thought you said you didn't find me a monster."

Madge cried out at her own stupidity.

"Well, I change my mind. You are a monster," she said, "But I pity you, too! You're so obsessed with winning, you don't even give a damn that your own parents walked you to a possible death!"

Cato winced and told Madge to stop it. When she wouldn't, he did the only thing he could think of to shut her up: kiss her. To his surprise, Madge neither pulled away nor indulged. Instead she froze up, body stilled with shock.

"Now that you've gotten your kiss," said Clove, "can I kill her? I quite liked seeing her friend die. What was her name? Rue?"

She laughed, but Cato tensed when he saw a startling huge person behind his fellow tribute. In all of the chaos, they had forgotten that Madge had lead them closer to the wheat field.

"You killed that little girl," boomed Thresh.

It wasn't a question. Before anyone could process what had happened, he had Clove by the neck and was bringing a rock down hard. Cato yelled in alarm, but by the time that he had launched his sword through Thresh's chest, it was already too late for Clove.

* * *

Cato rounded on Madge. They were now the only tributes left in the Game. She winced when she stepped on a twig and stumbled backwards, into the brush. She quickly reached into her pocket and took out two Night lock berries, planning on consuming them.

But before she could, Cato said, "Tell me more about people with piano hands."

Madge saw her chance and got an idea.

She said, "My mom used to tell me that people with hands like ours could make others happy – that we could save each other. Do you want to do that, Cato? Do you want to make me happy?"

She looked straight into his eyes, forcing him to look at her. Her heart involuntarily twisted when she saw they were filled with pain and that maniac glint.

He nodded and she said, "Good. See these berries? We'll each take one and we'll fall asleep. No one will get hurt then. But don't do it until I count to three, okay?"

He nodded, dazed by their closeness. She put a berry on his tongue, and she put one on her own, and counted down from three. By the time she had gotten to two, a frenzied voice came from the speakers and declared that there would be two winners of the Games that year.

Madge spit out the berry and made Cato do the same. She then hugged him, enjoying the strong feel of his arms holding hers. In that moment, she didn't care that he was basically a psych; they were just two people saved by piano hands.

* * *

**Okay, just to clear things up, the song Madge sung is from the new Peter Jackson movie, **_**The Hobbit**_**. If you haven't heard it, I suggest listening to it. The ending of the fic is kind of weak, but it was kind of difficult to write in a one shot. Quite a long one, too; 33 pages, it is. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed it! **

**I am open for suggestions, **

**RedRoses130**


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